


Birthday Wishes

by Laikin394



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: D&S, M/M, Out of Character, Punishment, cladois
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-19
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-21 03:37:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13732320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laikin394/pseuds/Laikin394
Summary: Alois orders Claude to comply with his wishes before he voices them. If only he knew what he wanted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to me (Feb 18, never too late to congratulate).
> 
> Not much plot again, I'm afraid.
> 
> Rated E for the second part to come.

"Cla-aude," Alois makes a lazy attempt to hide a yawn, raising his hand to his mouth only halfway through it. "Did you forget what day it was?"

"I do not believe so, Your Highness."

"And?.." the boy pouts when the prompt in his voice is ignored.

"Today is Your Highness' birthday."

"Not mine. It's Alois Trancy's birthday."

"You _are_ Alois Trancy."

"Hmph. You know what I mean."

Claude adjusts his glasses without a word - as if they ever got askew - and continues to lace Alois boots up. His expression remains just as calm even when the boy pokes his chest with the pointy tip of his shoes.

"Well? Don't you know it's ill-mannered to ignore a question?"

"With all due respect, Your Highness haven't voiced one."

"Pfft, don't play clever with me. Why didn't you congratulate me on my birthday?"

"Your Highness has specifically ordered to avoiding mentioning it. If I do recall, that was one of the reasons for postponing celebrations till the end of the week."

"I changed my mind. After all, I might not have many of those left. Even if I get two per year." He says it matter-of-factually, growing numb to the prospect of dying young after running it through his mind time and again. "But now you have to say it. Or even better, sing it."

Alois leans back onto his elbows, eyes half closed. He swings his foot as if to give Claude a signal to begin.

"Happy birthday, Your Highness. May this day be the merriest one yet."

"Ah!" A satisfied grin spreads across the boy's face. "I knew you could do it. That wasn't so hard, was it? Doing exactly as I ordered you."

"Any other specific requests, Your Highness?"

Claude's voice is flat. Alois peels one eye open to check if he has finally managed to irritate his butler. Alas, even if he succeeded, there are no traces of it.

"As a matter of fact..." Alois jolts up on the bed, squirming to slide closer to its edge. This way, they are almost face to face. Claude makes no attempt to move away even when Alois leans in, absurdly close, their noses almost touching. The boy sighs. He seldom gets to enjoy such proximity. "There is."

Claude raises his brows, careful indication he is listening.

"You can do anything, right, Claude?"

"I'd appreciate it if Your Highness would define anything."

"Would you do anything I ask?"

"To my best ability."

"Mhmm," Alois gets closer still, his hands bunching up the thick fabric of Claude's uniform. The boy's lips almost brush the shell of his butler's ear when he continues in a confiding whisper. "I want you to prove how well you know me. Guess and cater to my wishes before they form in my mind." Alois moves away, his eyes seeking Claude's. "Do it," he adds almost menacingly, tightening the grip of his fingers over Claude's shoulders. He pushes the demon away in a moment.

Although it wasn't a question or a matter of the butler's consent, he lets out a custom impassive "yes, Your Highness".

"Great!" Alois claps his hands. When Claude stands up, he slides off the tall bed and races him downstairs. Claude doesn't quicken his steps yet he manages to catch up with the boy in the corridor, swiftly appearing before him and pushing the door of the dining room open to his master.

The rest of the servants are aligned next to the table. They greet their Earl in hushed voices - louder than a murmur, but quiet enough not to be scolded for speaking up in his presence. Alois pays them no mind, marching to his chair. His lips part in an unvoiced surprise when Hannah and the triplets turn around and exit the room.

"I thought my master would enjoy his breakfast more without extra company," Claude explains. The boy knits his brows together. "Was I wrong?"

"No-o," Alois drawls. He doesn't appear to be particularly thrilled. Claude serves him food, silently changing the plates when the boy is done destroying the perfectly fried eggs on his plate.

"What do you think you are doing?" Alois demands when Claude takes the little spoon from his hand. "Claude!"

The perfectly sized bite of the dessert is fed to the boy. Alois scowls when his mouth is dabbed with a napkin, despite being clean.

Claude's touches are slow. The thumb of his left hand strokes Alois's cheek in a way that is uncharacteristically gentle. The boy grunts, smacking Claude's hands away.

"Do you mistake me for an incapable child?" he shrieks. The corner of Claude's mouth twitches. "Do you think I am so stupid I forgot how to eat on my own?"

"Sincerest apologies, Your Highness."

"Huh."

The hiss of irritation is gone as quickly as it came. Discarding the spoon, Alois sticks his index finger into his pudding, scooping it up. He licks it off, glaring at Claude with a challenge. When he's not reminded of proper manners, Alois sucks his digit clean, pulling it out of his mouth with a loud pop.

"What are those?" The glistening finger points at the middle of the table.

"Lilies, Your Highness."

"Not the usual roses?"

"I felt a change could be good." Claude picks up the tea pot and tips it over the cup. "How does Your Highness find them?"

"Dull. They are plain white. They get lost against the tablecloth." The butler's grip over the teapot waivers, causing the lid to rattle. Alois fails to notice. "Although roses are even worse."

"Why is that, my lord?"

"They are too perfect. Almost identical. I find it boring. There's nothing unique about a separate flower, that could easily be substituted with another one. Demons have the same problem, don't you think, Claude? You try too hard to be impeccable. That could give you away. Take Hannah for example. Who would spare her a second glance with her flawless dolly look? Until I made her stand out. I made her unique. Do you understand what I'm leading to?"

"Is young master implying that he would like to take my eyeball as well?"

Alois shivers when a chill trickles down his arms. He cannot tell if his skin prickles with goosebumps from excitement or the dread at this suggestion.

"What if I did?" Would Claude fight him or plead for mercy or take it with the same stoic expression that accompanies everything his does. "What would you do?"

"I would have to acquire a monocle."

Alois scoffs. He tries to hold back his snickers, but given in, swaying in his chair as giggles rattle his body. The fit of laughter is exaggeratively long, until it starts to ring fake. Alois fails to stop. He wraps his arms around his middle, swiftly pressing down as if to squeeze the giggles out. They cannot be helped. Eventually, the snickering ceases, leaving his eyes moist and his ribs sore from where his fingers dug into his flesh.

“I don't want that anymore,” he informs Claude, pushing the tea saucer with the cup away. “What I meant was that there's nothing more tiresome, than bland strive for an ideal. Flaws and inconsistencies are what make things interesting. You could learn from that.”

Alois folds his arms over the chest, giving Claude one of his smug grins. How humiliating it must feel for the demon to be lectured on human nature. Alois hardly believes his own words. He is proud of how convincing they sound, but his aim is to break through his butler's perfect composure. He adores Claude's faultless obedience. He loves how stunningly handsome he is – surely, no human could match up to him. Alois is even fond of how precise the demon is in fulfilling his orders, completing them with determination and pride the boy could never comprehend. He admires everything Claude is and everything he does. If he could, Alois would dedicate his every breath to conveying just that. Alas, if he knows that this would be the end for him. The only way he can attract attention is by going to extreme. Surprising Claude is becoming harder, but Alois refuses to bend under the weight of the task.

“I will be in my study, working.” He slides off his chair, carelessly allowing the napkin to drop onto the floor. Alois almost adds “and so should you”, but he doesn't want to overplay it. After all, isn't it Claude's task to foresee what he wishes him to do?

Alois hardly needs to work. Claude takes care of everything – contracts, correspondence, bills. He spares Alois the trouble of dealing with most tedious tasks, leaving enough for him to play responsible if he desires.

Alois spends more time studying the creamy envelopes, than reading the letters. They are pointless anyways. But the boy enjoys running his fingers over the ridges of the seals and sometimes he closes his eyes to guess who the letter came from just by the feel of the hardened wax. He prides himself in thinking that his own seal is the most intricate one he has seen. Alois wonders if Claude's skin would feel the same under his touch - smooth and slightly cool. There is no reason why it would be - he resembles a human in every way. Yet Alois has attributed so many god-like characteristics to him, he refuses to accept any experience with Claude would be short of extraordinary.

There is a knock on the door of his study. Claude steps in, as if the boy's thoughts summoned him here. They could, Alois remembers, didn't he order it? He giggles, pleased at the idea he could pull the demon by a mere image in his mind. He is tempted to think up something daring to test the theory.

"I brought you tea, my lord."

"So soon? Ugh. Didn't I say I was going to work?" Amazed, Alois watches Claude clench his jaws. It tightens his features, his thin nose and yellow eyes bringing resemblance to a hawk. Is he upset that Alois didn't appreciate his effort?

"Fine. Bring it." Claude steps closer, placing the tray on the desk. "Wait here," Alois points to the floor next to him. "I said I had to work, didn't I? And don't just tower over me. I don't like it!” Alois's tongue darts out to wet the seam of his mouth. The word he's about to say is so sweet it never fails to steal his breath. There are no other chairs in the room. He doesn't get a chance to utter the order – Claude sinks down on one knee as if it was the most natural thing for him to do.

“Mhmm, better.”

Claude doesn't respond to a mocking praise. Alois sighs and returns to the letters. He picks up a paper knife, his favourite, shaped more like a dagger. Alois enjoys its smooth cool weight. He pokes the sealing wax, separating it from the sheet and slides the letter out of the envelope. He couldn't care less about what he says yet he imitates interest, gliding his eyes along neat rows of letters. Occasionally, Alois steals a glance at his butler. To his dismay, all he can see is the top of Claude's head. He remains immobile in his bowing, almost lifeless. A puppet with cut strings, waiting for its owner to pick it up. What a beautiful, sedative illusion.

“Is it uncomfortable?” Alois jeers. He keeps his eyes on the paper, flipping the page over. So many paragraphs in, and the obligatory courtesies still pour from under the man's quill. “Staying contorted like that?”

“No, my lord.”

Alois turns, pulling the chair with him. He maneuvers it, still holding the letter in one hand and the paper knife in the other. The clawed legs of the chair scrape against the hardwood floor.

“How about this?” he says sweetly. The golden tip of the knife presses under Claude's chin, pushing it up. “Is this uncomfortable?”

“No, my lord,” Claude repeats, his voice deeper.

Alois doesn't intend for the small dagger to pierce the skin. He tries to apply enough pressure for his butler to feel the danger, but then the temptation is too strong. Alois never does things half-way; everything or nothing. He lets out a soft gasp as a bead of scarlet begins to take its way down the blade. The boy smiles.

“Oh, Claude, look!” Alois waves the stained knife before his butler's eyes. “Don't you think red is stunning on gold?” His grin only widens, as if the discovery has made him immensely proud. “You are not smiling, Claude.” Alois frowns. “I could help with that, if you just asked. Carve you a smile.” He smacks the blade across the demon's cheek before dragging it lightly down to the corner of his mouth. Alois leans forward, seeking approval or hint of fear in Claude's eyes. He cannot put a name to emotion he sees there, but at least it isn't indifference. His eyes shift to the dimple the knife made in Claude's cheek and the trail of smeared blood.

“Red looks good on white too,” Alois whispers.

He licks up Claude's face, from the corner of his mouth to his temple. Satisfied, Alois reclines against the back of his chair. His teeth sink into his bottom lip, doing nothing to prevent another smug grin.

Claude pulls out a handkerchief from his breast pocket. He wipes his face and folds the fabric in a way that hides the little blossom of blood and saliva it soaked up.

“Would you like your tea to be served now, Your Highness?”

“You make me sick!” Alois shouts. He sticks the knife into the desk, scrunching up the letter in his other hand and slamming his fist against his knee. “Your stupid obsession with minor details is simply revolting! You are not even trying to be different.” Claude makes a jerky movement, almost a shrug. “Did you listen to what I was saying this morning?”

“Yes.” Claude rises up in a smooth effortless movement. He brushes his fingertips under his chin. His blood stains the glove. Claude removes it, hiding it in the pocket of his trousers. He procures an identical clean one, sliding it over his palm. “Your Highness was unsatisfied with my butler aesthetics.”

“No! Yes. Well, I meant they are _too_ good.”

“I shall try to remedy that. Would you like your tea to be served now, my lord?”

Alois covers his eyes with his hand. Claude seems to have heard him, but he didn't listen. Tea, huh.

“Whatever.”

Alois yelps when hot fluid splashes his shorts.

“Claude!”

“Apologies, Your Highness.”

“Argh. You did it on purpose!” Alois hisses with anger when Claude makes no move to cleaning him up.

“Mere clumsiness, my lord.”

“Quit just standing there and do something about it!” Claude runs his gloved hand over the boy's hip. Instead of soaking it up, he just spreads the wetness around. “Are you mocking me?” Luckily enough, the tea wasn't hot enough to burn him, but Alois finds little reconciliation in that.

"I assure you, I would not..."

"Enough!" Alois bolts up. "It's unacceptable. You could have seriously harmed me. I- I must punish you for this... Yes." Alois drums his fingers on the desk as the promised punishment slowly shapes up in his mind. "Off with your gloves. Wait, no. I will do it. Hold your hands out."

Claude obliges. Alois grabs his wrists, his own hands unsteady. He gently twists them in his grip, so that Claude's palms are turned upwards. The boy pushes the cuffs of the butler's crisp shirt and the tail coat up, exposing the pale strip of skin over the gloves.

Alois teases the tiny buttons that hold the gloves in place. He never got to see them up close. Though the gloves are simpler than those he owns, they are finely made still, the seams and the stitches so small they create an illusion of being sown from one piece. Alois pushes the smooth button through the loop, but it resists. He has to use both hands to maneuver it around, which adds to his irritation.

"Stupid things," he mutters under his breath.

"Do you require assistance, Your Highness?"

"No, I can do it! Aha!"

Alois wins the battle against the button. He peels off the offensive glove, quickly repeating the process with the other one. He pauses, staring at Claude's bare hands. It is a surreal sight. Exposed against the coal blackness of his coat, they appear alien, as if Claude was missing something. A finishing stroke to the strict black and white armor of his uniform.

Alois touches the base of Claude's palm with his fingertips. He glides them down, tracing the lines scattered across them. Claude's hands are larger and somehow more defined, as if the demon spent extra time creating them for his disguise. But then, why would he be constantly hiding them beneath the cotton of his gloves? Alois wants to press his hands over Claude's just to compare. Maybe, he would even go as far as to lace their fingers together.

"Have you changed your mind, master?"

Claude ruins the moment and Alois jerks his hands away.

"You wish! No. I was studying the material I have to work with."

"Ah."

That simple sound restores the simmering anger. Alois grunts as he reaches inside his desk drawer. The wood of the ruler is worn from years of use. There are occasional ink stains and crude doodles left by Alois when he felt particularly bored in classes Claude made him take. Still, the ruler is sturdy. Alois weighs it in his hand.

All of a sudden, that doesn't seem to be like a good idea. He raises his eyes to look at Claude, searching for any signs or warnings as to why he shouldn't do it. He sees nothing.

Smack.

The sounds makes Alois tremble head to toe, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on their end. He pants, not so much from exertion as the realization sinks in. He hit Claude. He _hit_ Claude. His stomach feels strange, almost like he's going to be sick. A part of him, the part he mentally screams at to shut up, enjoyed it. But there is also dread and a pinch of remorse. This isn't Hannah. He cannot be sure that he won't be hit in return. He doesn't know if that will make Claude turn his back on him too.

Alois gulps, willing himself to look up. Where there is a turmoil of emotion in his soul, Claude is free from such a burden. He looks bored, neither impressed nor affected by the act.

The boy grits his teeth. He will show him. He will make him listen.

Alois used the wider flat surface of the ruler. Now, he flips it over, delivering a blow with its ridge. He applies more force but there's barely a sound aside from a faint swoosh as the ruler cuts through the the air. Alois stops to inspect a pink stripe it left across Claude's palm. It swells right before his eyes. Alois raises his arm again.

Claude makes no sound as criss-cross marks cover his palms. Alois's panting is loud in his own ears. The swish of the ruler slows down as well, as the boy's shoulder throbs in protest. He cannot keep up the pace, but by the time his sweat sticks his shirt to his back, Claude's hands are of solid angry red. Alois drops his arm to his side, letting the ruler slide out of his grip. He makes a shaky sigh, cupping Claude's hands and bringing them to his face.

“Does it hurt?”

Alois closes his eyes, nuzzling against the irritated skin. He can feel how heated it is against his cheeks. He turns his head, carefully pressing his lips to the swollen surface in what was meant to be a soothing gesture, but probably adds to the throbbing ache Claude must feel.

“Are you angry I did it? You know you left me no choice. I had to punish you – surely, you understand.” Alois strokes the back of Claude's hands with his thumb, his voice gaining confidence. “Say you're not mad at me.”

“I am not mad.”

“Good. Now prove that you're not.” The moment stretches, but Claude makes no move. Alois pouts.“Well?” He frowns, tightening his hands around the demon's.

“How would you like me to prove that, my lord?”

Alois squints, studying his face. Claude sounds a bit strained. The boy is surprised to find his face damp with perspiration. It isn't that warm in the room, but even so, even on the hottest day he has never seen his butler display any signs of discomfort. It takes the edge off his next command, which comes out more like a meek suggestion.

“A reconciliation kiss?”

Claude cradles his face on his own now, without the boy's prompting touch. Alois parts his lips, waiting. His heart flutters against his ribs as seconds drag by, tortuously slow. He regards Claude through hooded eyes, watching the contours of his face blur as he moves closer in. Alois rises on his toes, stretching his neck to make it finally happen.

A warm graze of Claude's lips, despite being welcome, comes as a surprise. It is light and brief, a weightless touch to the boy's forehead. Alois trembles as his zealous energy finds no release.

“You ruined it!” he yells. Claude shudders, as if he was immune to pain but not the boy's screams. “You do everything wrong, everything!” Alois's eyes sting. He blinks rapidly, but it makes the itch in the corners of his eyes even worse. “How could you do this to me? Especially today! Ugh!" Alois's chokes on indignation, the rage pulsing in him. It is suffocating. It robs him off words. Claude hunches over. He grabs onto the edge of the desk, wincing at the contact.

"Claude?" the boy's voice jumps a pitch. "Claude! What's wrong?" His butler doesn't rush to respond. "What's happened to you? Tell me!"

"I am standing in the Earl Trancy's study, on the first floor of the manor. I came in here to serve tea not more than..."

"Claude! I'm serious!" Alois's hands curl into fists. He practically vibrates with irritation, the worry and confusion adding to his shaking. Claude's nails scrape against the desk. He fails to brace himself against it and slowly sinks to the floor with a muffled grunt. "Quit playing, tell me the truth!"

A shiver ripples through Claude, as if Alois's words added to his misery.

“Why won't you just tell me? Must I make an order of everything?”

Claude's right hand clasps around the wrist of his left arm. He sucks the air in through his teeth.

“The non-compliance... brings certain – discomfort.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The order that I seem to have not fulfilled to your – satisfaction.”

“I don't understand.”

Claude looks up, his mouth twisting with scorn as he spits the words out.

“That silly morning command of yours...”

“Silly? How dare you!” Claude snarls as he doubles over, throwing his arms out to stop his fall. Slowly, Alois beings to realize what is happening. “The order I gave you this morning... To please me before I even say it... You're failing, aren't you? And the contract is punishing you for it.”

The demon's eyes are burning, the usual yellow of his irises morphing into dark brown with hints of red. Alois should be at least concerned – anyone in his place would be terrified – but instead he finds he's enjoying it. The way Claude looks at him does send a shiver down his spine, but it isn't borne out of fear. Alois revels in it. He feels he has acquired has his butler's full attention – something he hasn't been able to grasp for a while. The cost matters little. At this very moment Claude needs him. He _cares_ about him.

“Oh,” the boy adds softly, allowing a smirk tug the corners of his mouth upwards. “What a peculiar little outcome. Delightful.” Claude grimaces, as if he intended to interrupt, but he doesn't get a chance to speak. “Hush now, I haven't finished.”

Claude shudders, either from the discomfort of failing to anticipate his master's wishes or from the boy's silky tone.

“Here is what I think we should do. You will apologize for referring to my orders as silly. And I, in turn, will mercifully grant you my forgiveness.”

The demon bares his teeth in an imitation of a smile. It makes Alois's knees buckle. He leans against the edge of the table, disturbed and excited by it.

“And why would I do that,” Claude says slowly, adding in a bit as an afterthought. “Your Highness?”

“Because y-you... you want the hurt to end?” Alois prompts. His confidence waivers as his butler looks to be no longer in pain.

“Haven't you ordered me to speak the truth, master? I consider apologising without experiencing remorse to be akin to deception.”

“I ordered no such thing!” Alois senses his face heat up. Frustration swells in his chest and disappointment leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He hoped he had an upper hand in this. He was being nice but all he got in return was unsolicited jeering. “You _will_ beg, Claude! Beg and grovel at my feet just because I've told you so!”

He tries to stomp his foot but it never makes the contact with the floor. Claude seizes they boy's leg by the ankle, holding it in a steel grip. Alois wobbles, jerking in his clutches as he puts more of his weight on the desk behind him.

“What the h-”

“Oh master, I love how passionate you can be,” Claude croons. There is a glimpse of adoration in his stare. Alois's eyes go wide as he watches his butler lean down. “And how convincing.”

Alois holds his breath.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Alois holds his breath.

He watches Claude's head inch closer, leaning over. The confusion as to what he's doing dissolves a moment later. He sees the tip of his butler's tongue come to a stop at the ankle of his shoes, completing a languid swipe.

"Is that enough of sincere groveling at your feet?"

The boy feels like he's the one who's been humiliated. He tries to pull his leg free from Claude's grip, but the demon only holds him firmer.

"Shu-ut up. Claude, d-don... ah!"

Alois had picked a new pair of boots this morning - a shorter one, of modest lacquered black. Arousal shoots through him as he watches Claude's pink tongue slide over the glossy side of his shoe. The abandon with which Claude has settled to his task adds to the sense of depravity. It's wrong, just like the jolt of pleasure that pierces Alois's belly, settling below his navel and burning down to reach his bones.

"Mmph."

Alois presses the back of his hand to his mouth to cut out his gasps. He bites his finger to ground himself as he begins to feel dizzy from the mad rush of blood with his quickened pulse.

The boy trembles when Claude repeats the lick, maintaining the eye contact as his inhumanly long tongue curls and adds to the shininess of the spot over Alois's toes. It's almost too much to take. Claude places his foot on the ground, his fingers casually slipping up over the leather that covers the boy's calf. They move up higher, to the soft wool of the stockings over Alois's slender legs. Claude's face is impossibly close to them. Shame curls up in Alois, souring his arousal. He shouldn't be enjoying this perverse worship, but he cannot help wondering how Claude's tongue would feel on his bare skin between his stockings and his shorts. Alois whimpers.

"Claude," he whines. "I... Come here."

The boy toys with the ends on the demon's cravat just to distract himself. He unclips the brooch that holds it together. He smooths the freed stripe of silk by running it between his fingers and pressing it over Claude's lips. He no longer cares about excuses or apologies. His lips buzz, longing for a kiss. The prospect of having a barrier of silk between their mouth only adds to his excitement.

As Alois bends down, Claude's expression changes. The spark of interest is gone and his feral exultancy is erased by the usual blank expression. The boy grits his teeth. Is he interesting only when he sizzles with indignation or screams orders? The idea is an insult in itself, a blow to his pride that makes Alois's palm itch in desire to knock that stupid indifference off Claude's face. He exhales slowly. Very well then.

Alois loops the ribbon behind his butler’s neck, using it to pull him towards himself. As Claude follows the silent beckoning, Alois criss-crosses its ends in front, gradually pulling them in opposite directions. He senses the strain of fabric as he applies more force. It digs into Claude's neck and there it is - the interest in the demon's eyes is reignited.

Alois can see the tiniest crease between his brows. Claude must feel what he would call _discomfort_ from lack of oxygen, but he looks at the boy with curiosity, as if truly seeing him for the first time. Alois waits another second to ensure that he does cause a burning in his lungs.

"You forgot the other one, Claude," he sing-songs, loosening the choking cravat.

Alois has once overheard Hannah say that a demon's way to happiness - if such creatures are capable of it - lies through suffering. He never understood it, but now the notion begins to take shape in his mind. Claude complies with his order with dark joy. After Alois's signs of affection and being put on a pedestal, this is what go to him. It's the most animated he has seen Claude be. As if twisting his words wasn't enough. As if absorbing the boy's moods by his impassiveness wasn't interesting.

If all it takes to coax this reaction means acting against his own instincts, Alois won't hesitate.

"So that kind of treatment is what you craved, hmm?" Alois drawls quizzically. "Sprawled on the floor, delivering the most meaningless service? How trivial." He crumples the silk in his fist as his body responds to the stimulation he cannot properly feel with a spasm of pleasure. "Oh no, don't just break from the task to respond. I can already see I'm right." In a surge of inspiration, Alois shifts his right leg. "I do believe you appear too dignified for such pathetic work. You need to try harder."

Alois steps on Claude's fingers, spread on the floor. He sighs to the grunt he elicits from his butler.

"Hmm, let's see." Alois leaves Claude's fingers be, noting not without satisfaction how they curl into a fist. He moves to the side, placing his foot heel down to inspect the tip of his boots with mock concern. "That won't do. You've got to try harder." Alois nudges the demon in the shoulder with his boot. Claude shifts, straightening up and folding his legs beneath himself. His eyes scan over Alois, slowly moving up form his knees to stop at his midsection. The boy fidgets, which doesn't escape his butler's attention. To be spiteful, Alois plucks the glasses off his face, tossing them onto the desktop behind him.

"How much harder would you like it to be, master?"

Alois tugs his vest down nervously. He feels an absurd urge to cover up his front, but he cannot allow himself to show any weakness. Instead, he straightens up.

"Oh, I don't know, Claude," he replies, voice dripping with honey. "You figure it out. You seem to have been putting your tongue to good use this far. Don't you want to please me?"

"I anticipate it'd be fruitless to ask how you'd prefer to be pleased, master?"

"Correct, since it was... Ah! Claude!" Alois protests as he's spun around. He finds himself facing the desk now and when he tries to turn around, a pair of strong hands keeps him in place. “What is that about?”

“Surely, you can bear with little inconvenience. This way, I can reach places better. It would be a shame should Your Highness remark on my diligence once more.”

“What even- nngh.” Alois looses his train on thought when Claude's hands cup his thighs. His fingers push up past the rim of his shorts, stroking the bare skin beneath. The change to such gentle touch is puzzling. Alois has to remind himself he must not trust it. “I d-don't think... Ah! You-”

Alois bites his tongue when Claude's hands go to the front of his shorts. He freezes when Claude's fingers brush over the evidence of his arousal he attempted to hide. It doesn't seem to hold any interest to the demon, who unfastens his shorts in several efficient movements, though clumsier than usual. Alois trembles as the lower half of his body is exposed. He senses warmness of Claude's breath on his skin and his stomach tightens.

The painful insecurity makes the boy fidget. He needs to tell Claude to move away, but his tongue is too thick for his mouth, refusing to form words. Alois mewls at the feel of hands covering his rear. The demon's palms are rough and still heated from the punishment he received. Alois could swear they are capable of burning him to brand him.

Alois squeals when something else comes in contact with his skin. Not in the wildest dreams could he imagine... Alois keens when Claude drags his tongue across his buttocks once again. It is a bit ticklish. The chilly air against the wet trail of saliva it left is quite uncomfortable, yet the depravity of the act fuels his lust. Claude's blunt nails sink into Alois's flash and before the boy can utter anything in protest, Claude's hands move in opposite directions, subjecting Alois to further nuisance.

Alois shakes as Claude's face presses against his skin. He lurches forward as Claude pulls him closer by his hips. And then the boy loses ability to speak - Claude's tongue is hot and wet and incredible.

Alois arches, pushing his chest against the desk. He can barely stand up and if it wasn't for Claude's keeping him up, he would probably collapse. He mewls at the sensation. It is most exquisite but wicked at the same time. The boys face is burning up. He is certain this moment will be imprinted in his memory forever, saved for the darkest of nights. Alois lowers his head on the desk, the cool wood only emphasising how feverish he feels. His breath murks the polished surface of the table.

Claude's tongue teases him in precise languid swipes. Just when the boy thinks he has grown accustomed to it and his body is able to cope with quivering pleasure, the pace changes. Continuous nearly aggressive circling and occasional pokes concentrate right in the center. They make Alois very self-conscious. He attempts to wiggle free, but Claude's grip is unyielding. Can he actually... enjoy doing this? Or is it his twisted idea of mocking him?

Alois cries out when Claude's tongue becomes more stiff, the tip slithering past the ring of muscle. The boy's body clamps down on it instinctively. It isn't so much for the unpleasant stretching that comes with the unbidden penetration, as the memories it brings.

"Claude, no, d-don't... Not like t-this."

His plead is met with a low growl-like rumble, but Claude let s him be. He goes back to non-committing licks, swirling and flicking his tongue against slicked up crease.

“E-enough,” Alois breathes. The pent-up pressure at the base of his cock has him tipping on the verge of losing composure. He doesn't know what to do about it, but he certainly cannot give in and turn himself into an easy target for Claude's ridicule. “I said stop, Claude!” The boy hopes he is perceived as stern despite the spasm of enjoyment that makes his toes curl. He regrets the loss of touch almost immediately. Alois tries to collect himself as his mind races.

“Close your eyes. And- don't open hem until I tell you so.”

Alois takes a deep inhale before pushing himself off the desk. He straightens, reaching down to catch his shorts bunched around his knees. He scowls as it takes several pulls to get them higher up his legs. Despite knowing that Claude has complied with his order and won't peek, his own clumsiness irritates the boy. He doesn't button the fly of the shorts – it would be most inconvenient to do so in his state – but being somewhat clothed restores his confidence. Covering himself with his hand, Alois turns around.

Claude's eyes remain shut and it's easier to look at him without giving into shame. The dusting of colour over his cheeks and lips is a drastic change. Alois feels a tug of longing in his chest, too afraid to trust the emotion his mind assigns to Claude. His glare slides lower and the boy's spirits are lifted.

“Would you look at that,” he chants. “Oh, forgive me. You can't, because I have ordered you not to.” Alois chuckles at is own joke, but his laughter stops abruptly. “What is the meaning of- this?” His foot presses into Claude's crotch, pushing down on the flesh straining beneath the fabric. His face feels hot. Alois has to clear his throat before he is able to continue. “I do not believe I commanded anything to that effect.”

“Ah, but any butler worth his s-ssalt,” the words spill from Claude's mouth with a hiss when they boy's foot presses into him harder, “takes great pleasure in obeying his master.”

“Pfft. How vulgar. That sounds like something the Phantomhive's pet servant would say.” Alois moves his foot lower between Claude's thighs, where he knows a man would be most sensitive. “I thought more highly of you.”

Claude's upper lip curls in disdain at the mention of his counterpart, yet he doesn't rush to deny the accusations. The boy gradually maneuvers the tip of his boot upwards, hungrily studying Claude's features to catch every little frown. He yearns to see his mask dissolve in a grimace of pain. To Alois's surprise, the demon leans forward, almost as if he sought more physical impact.

“Does Your Highness find it offensive?”

Alois wets his lips. He doesn't know how to answer that. His hand closes around his own rigid length and he bites back a moan.

“Uh...” His wit is failing him. “Well...” Alois searches for the right word. Then, he realizes that Claude has already prompted him an answer. “I wouldn't know until I truly see, would I?” he says hastily. 

“Pardon?”

“I said I couldn't know if it was offensive to the eye,” Alois gives Claude a last push with his foot before leaving him be. “Show me.”

“I was referencing your insinuation - that my words were borrowed rather than being my own. Now I sense there is confusion as to the subject of our conversation. What am I asked to display, Your Highness?”

Claude furrows his brow as if he was genuinely puzzled. Alois grits his teeth.

“Don't play stupid!” he lashes out. Claude's body arches, as if he had taken a whip to his back. “Are you provoking me on purpose? I do believe that a bit of pain makes you more... agreeable.” Alois finds it difficult to remain angry. The stubbornness with which Claude attempts to disobey him when already brought to his knees is enticing.

“I do not...”

“Liar.” The accusation rings through the room. Claude winces. Alois takes several sharp breaths to tame his frustration. Whether it's a desire to mislead him into thinking the demon is not enjoying it or twisted need to get the last word, in the end Alois is in charge. He cannot show he is affected in any way. “What a liar you are... Claude.” The boy punctuates the last word by getting his fingers tanged in the demon's hair at the back of his neck and giving it a sharp tug. Alois watches Claude's eye move behind the lids. “Fine. I will give you another hint.” Alois pauses. He doesn't really know what he's asking for at this point. He lets go of Claude's hair, dropping his hand to his collar. The boy loops his finger behind the he starched fabric, running it towards the front of the man's neck. “You're always overdressed for the occasion, have you noticed?”

Claude grabs his hand.

“Is that so, master?”

Alois forgets to scold him for the brash tone as his fingers are gently squeezed. It's such a small thing, but the skin to skin touch of their bare hands is surprisingly erotic. To his dismay, Claude lets go of him too quickly.

“That could be remedied.”

Claude undoes the top button button of his shirt.

“Yes!” Alois blurts out. He cannot look away, mesmerized by the way the demon's black nails graze the dimple at the base of his neck. “More.”

Claude's hand moves lower, gliding down over his uniform. It isn't what Alois ordered. He wants to protest, but he only whimpers when Claude's fingers come to a stop below his belt.

“Touch yourself.”

“Am I not, Your Highness?”

“Nnh not like this. Not through clothes.”

Alois bites his lip as Claude works on his fly. The boy roughly presses the base of his palm against his own arousal, willing it to go down.

Claude lays his palm flat against his stomach, fingertips pointed downwards. He slowly pushes it behind the fabric of his pants. His lips part ever so slightly. Alois feels a throb of arousal in low in his body. He observes the subtle rise and fall of Claude's hand in his trousers. The boy's imagination completes the picture, but it's not nearly enough.

“Claude,” he croaks, mouth too dry to form the words properly. “I... please. I-i want to see.”

Alois doesn't want to word it as an order, not in this. He craves for Claude to be more agreeable, even though he's certain he would be denied one more. Without realizing it, he starts imitating the obscure movements of Claude's palm, quivering at a jolt of pleasure that follows. He stretches his left arm out, brushing the side of his butler's face. His chest swells with emotion, balancing between the desire to praise the demon and to hurt him.

“I want to see you,” Alois whispers.

“Isn't what you see enough, for you, master?”

“All of you.” His fingers tighten, pinching Claude's cheeks. “Don't you think it makes sense? You belong to me, after all.”

There is a small twitch of muscle beneath the boy's fingers. He wonders if Claude is annoyed – or if his failed grimace would be one of amusement. Alois stops caring. Triumphant, he watches the demon give it, indulging his hunger.

Nothing in Claude's movement betrays how he feels about his position. He exposes himself just like he does everything else – meticulously and with efficiency that leaves no room for passion. The contrast between his precise movements and the flushed length of his cock is utterly sinful.

“Good,” Alois coos. He traces Claude's mouth with his thumb. He sighs at the memory of its touch that echoes through his body. He pushes his finger in, feeling the wet softness of the inner side of Claude's bottom lip. The boy hisses as sharp teeth capture his digit between them. He makes no move to pull away. “Now, stroke yourself.”

Claude obeys. Alois is is glad he had the insight to order the demon to keep his eyes closed – he can now look at him all he wants. The overwhelming lust consumes the prickle of shame. The boy leans back to give himself a better view and allow his eyes to roam.

Alois shifts his gaze from Claude's face to his crotch and back up. The corrupted beauty of it steals the wind from his lungs. Alois aches for a touch, but he doesn't want to interfere. He curls his fingers around his straining erection, following Claude's changing pace.

Swift forceful pumps come to an abrupt stop. The boy's hips buck forward even as his hand stops moving. It's maddening. Alois whimpers, the need for release building up too quick. Claude doesn't seem affected, the tentative glide of his fingers picking up speed once more.

Alois wonders if the teasing is deliberate. He bites the inside of his cheek to distract himself, but it helps little. The heat of approaching climax licks up his back, merciless and irreversible despite the boy's wish. There is a dribble of wetness on his fingers. Alois places his other hand over the tip to catch it. It's a mistake. The contact with the sensitive flesh sends him over the edge. He keens, the sticky pleasure gushing out, viscid fire from within draining out to land in his cradled hand.

Alois gulps, trying to calm down his ragged breathing. His body shudders one more, an aftershock of the previous intensity. He waits a moment. Then an idea strikes him.

“Hands off.”

Alois crouches down. He wobbles a little as his shorts slide lower, but manages to keep his balance. He spreads the wetness from his hand over Claude's member. Touching someone else so intimately by his own will is unfamiliar. It's hot and heavy in his hand, the skin over the harder core moving delicately under the boy's nimble fingers. He knows it is no threat to him yet the hairs at the back of Alois's neck stand on their end.

“Continue,” he adds non-chalantly. Straightening up, Alois pulls the handkerchief from Claude's breast pocket. He smirks at the faint wet sound the demon's finger make. “Tsk, how undignifying Claude.” The boy unhurriedly wipes his palm with the handkerchief. He isn't too thorough at his task. “Oh, and by the way,” Alois drags the damp pads of his fingers across his butler's cheek. Claude makes a sharp inhale. “I would appreciate it if you were diligent, but not too much. I'll be very mad if you finish without my permission.”

He fixes his clothes the best he can and runs down his hands to smooth out the wrinkles. With a satisfied sigh Alois gets back into his chair, putting his elbows against the armrests and propping his chin with his right hand.

“You can open your eyes if you want.”

Alois considered going back to his correspondence, but he changes his mind when he meets Claude's stare. His pupils are dilated, not a trace of glossy indifference remaining. Alois could get lost in the pit of darkness he finds within them. It is unsettling, but he fights his instinct to turn away. Instead, he slouches in the chair more.

“Why did you stop?” he calls after some time.

“Was this not your order, master.”

“Oh.” Alois huffs to himself. “Correct. Well...Restrain yourself. And then continue.”

Alois tilts his head to the side, watching the tugs of Claude's fist get more crude as he sets an uneven rhythm to the strokes. The damp tip gets darker in colour, peeking through the ring of fingers that rub over it. Alois cannot tell how much time passes before the enticing slide ceases.

“You may stop now.” Alois gets back onto his feet.”I think you do deserve a reward now. Where was it? Ah!” The boy bends to pick up Claude's cravat off the floor. He giggles, reaching to tie a quick crooked bow at the base of his prick. “There, isn't it pretty?” Alois lightly runs his fingers along the underside on the shaft and up to tap on the glistening head. “Do not remove it. And do not dare relieve yourself by any means, including the help of others. Is that clear, Claude?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

The raw emotion in his butler's eyes is worth a dozen punishments. Alois shivers.

“It is an order. Fix your attire. You may be dismissed.” The boy turns away and plucks Claude's spectacles from the desk where he tossed them. When he turns back, he finds Claude presentable once more.

“Are you fully satisfied then, master?”

The words are dripping with venom. At any other time Alois would be insulted, yet now, having Claude ask it after all he had to do to keep him interested, to keep him on the edge... Alois chuckles. He looks at Claude's neck that misses its cravat and his still tenting trousers. Satisfied. What a ridiculous way to put it. His giggling becomes louder. It rattles in him, spilling from his lips in series of pitches wheezes.

“Oh C-claude... You still- hha. You s-still don't...” The unamused face of his demon only adds to his merriment. It blurs as tears gather in the boy's eyes, his stomach spasming up from laughter. “Ahah, you think I-ah... do it f-for me?” Alois hiccups, which makes him snort even harder. “It was all f-for you, you du-”

The slap across his face cuts the boy short. Alois's hand flies to his cheek. The sting causes the tears to trickle down and he winces as they land on his hand. As he blinks rapidly, the new ones appear.

“Why would you do that?”

“Apologies. It seemed to me that young master...”

“Quiet!” Alois snaps. “Haven't I already told you you were a terrible liar, Claude?” Alois grabs the lapel's of Claude's coat, pulling him closer. “I have changed my mind. I don't want you to leave.”

“And what would his Highness wish be then?”

A smile spreads across Alois's lips, this time genuine.

“Do it again, Claude,” Alois says hoarsely. “Hit me. I-I liked it.”

 


End file.
